


Delicate

by MashUpGames



Series: Tales of the Champion [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Dresses, F/M, Fenris (Dragon Age) is Bad at Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Fenris, Hawke (Dragon Age) is Bad at Feelings, Hawke is secretly girly, Humor, Light Angst, Pining, Protective Fenris, Purple Hawke, Romance, wardrobe malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18473074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashUpGames/pseuds/MashUpGames
Summary: Hawke was having a nice day at home until Varric stopped by to tell her that someone needed help. It wouldn't have been so bad, if he hadn't seen what she was wearing.





	Delicate

**Author's Note:**

> A sort-of sequel to Battering Ram, but they can be read in any order.

The next morning, Marian woke to hear two sets of barking. It was early, if the lack of tea scent was any indication. Sandal enjoyed playing with the mabari, and she enjoyed watching Sandal. While he was technically grown, she couldn't help but think of him as a child, and had to restrain herself from doting on him too much. Bodhan would worry that she was troubling herself, and then drive himself into a tizzy over it. She could already hear him shushing his son, gently chastising him not to wake 'the Lady Hawke'. It reminded her of Papa shushing them when Mama was in bed, and for once the sting of memory was a dull ache. 

She rose, stretching and making her way to the wardrobe. Her only plans today were studying how to actually run the finer points of the estate, and writing Bethany. With absolutely no intention of stepping foot outside, she chose a dress. Her fondness for them was a secret shared only with the women of her family. The realities of working a farm and watching over their shoulders for templars made dresses, especially pretty ones, not only impractical, but potentially life threatening. They complained only among themselves, in the wee hours when Papa and Carver were still asleep, while cooking breakfast or alone in the house cleaning. 

Marian could only shudder to think of the teasing she would get from Varric or Isabela over it, with Anders leering and Merrill and Fenris gawking. Aveliene would probably be the only one not to make a comment, and was hence the only friend she had actually given permission to drop in unannounced. A light blue gown that matched her eyes, and a matching hair piece to keep her dark curls somewhat contained, and she deemed herself ready. She kept a dagger on, of course, feeling naked otherwise.  
Bodhan had already begun breakfast by the time she made her way to the stairs, Sandal giving her a cheerful, loud, "Good morning nice lady!". His happy disposition was infectious, and she greeted him just as cheerfully, if a bit quieter. The older dwarf had tea ready and waiting for her, and she thanked him before heading to her desk in the library.

It was mid afternoon before she got up again, breakfast and lunch having both been brought to her while she worked. Numbers and sums came naturally to her, much like her mother. It would be several months before all of the Amell estate would be back in order, with Gamlen and then Slavers having had run of it for so long. The building itself was sound, but the records from the fishing and farmland income were in tatters. Marian's own half of The Bone Pit Mine was paying well enough to take care of her and Mama until the rest could be fixed, but it wasn't enough to secure future generations. Until it was, there could be no real suitors, and for that she was grateful.  
Mama had been upset, but had to coincide to the reality of their situation. Even with the profit from the expedition, they had to maintain a budget. Bodahn refused to accept payment, arguing that Sandals life-and tendency to blow things up- put them both forever in her debt. Marian would have never left anyone behind in the Deeproads anyway, but he wouldn't hear it. The dwarf did hear a knock on the door, however, and being familiar with most of her friends cheerful let the visitor enter.  
Marian was already walking into the foyer when she heard Varric's voice, and only had time enough to freeze in terror before he turned and saw her. 

"Hawke, as much as I-Holy shit!"

There was nothing that could save her dignity here but a quick tongue. "I wouldn't know how much you put in a chamber pot, but if it's reciting the Chant I think the Mothers might want to know about it."

Bodhan made strangled noise, rushing out of the room to hide his laughter. Varric stayed rooted to the spot, staring. "Yeah, that's definitely a Hawke joke. Maker, I almost didn't recognize you." 

She gave an exaggerated curtsy, and silently cursed herself for not telling Bodhan that ONLY Aveliene was to be let in without warning. She couldn't really blame him, especially with it being Varric. "I thought some pretty clothes would go nicely with the pretty house." If she kept making jokes, Varric wouldn't be able to make as much fun of her. 

"Uh, right, haha yeah." He coughed. "Anyway, I ran into a dwarf in the market, and apparently his kids decided to go on their own Deep Rroads expedition. Alone."

"Shit." 

"My thoughts exactly." 

Hawke shook her head, turning towards the stairs. "See if Anders is willing to head in there again. If not, ask Merril or Aveliene. I'll grab my gear and Fenris and meet you at the gates."

"Got it." He said, turning and heading back out. Hawke didn't like to wait for anything, and he hurried as fast as any dwarf could towards Darktown. Even if he refused to go back down there, Anders would definitely want to hear about what he'd just seen, 

Marian cursed at everything the Maker had made while running up to the second floor. Bodahn had insisted that her armor be kept on a stand in her room, and she could kiss him for it right now. She pulled her dress over her head as she made her way to the dark metal, throwing it in a heap to the floor. It was a shame that this armor couldn't be pulled on just as quickly. A flash of envy hit her, thinking of Bethy's pinions, but she kicked it away, and reached for her axe. 

Fenris was flipping through a book when he heard Hawke enter the mansion. He had long ago learned how to identify a person by their footsteps; it had been a vital skill for survival, in Tevinter. Knowing it was her did not halt his immediate instinct to shove the book somewhere it could not be seen. Slaves were not allowed to read. Though the rows of symbols meant almost nothing to him, just being caught would have resulted in torure and beatings for days. He had admired an artists' sketch only once there, and was just now beginning to feel safe enough to look for pictures again. 

Hawke strode through the doorway with a face ready for war. Whatever had happened, she looked ready to kill. Her blue eyes were almost like lightening in their glow, her hair-was down. And had something in it. 

Hawke had something blue in her hair. 

Hawke had a delicate, frilly, beaded-lace hair piece placed expertly in her hair, that was down. 

He wasn't sure if the lack of air in his chest was from the shock of seeing her in something feminine, or in wonder at how an already beautiful woman now looked....he didn't know if he had the words. He'd never seen her in anything but her armor, had imagined her nude on several occasions...and for some reason the thought of her in clothes, in something soft and lovely....it left him hotter than other fantasies had-by far.

"...and there's no telling how far they've gotten or if they're alive at this point. Varric is still working through his asshole brother trying to kill him, but he's the one that told me, so I'm pretty sure he's coming with us. Fenris?"

Hawke was looking at him expectantly. He had to tear his eyes from her hair accessory and back to her face, and he had no idea what she was talking about. 

"I apologize. I was...distracted...by your head wear. What are we going to do?"

She stared at him in confusion for several moments before going red with embarrassment, shoving her hands into her hair to try and remove it.

"Shit! Mother fu- I completely forgot. Damnit-"

The lace just became more tangled, and now that she was actively fighting with her hair, he could tell it had actually been styled. Her curls were a disaster now. He stepped forward, putting his hands on hers gently, stopping her from just ripping it apart in her haste to remove it. She wouldn't even bat an eye at ruining it. 

"Here, let me help." He spoke soflty.

"Uh, sure." Hawke slowly pulled her hands out from underneath his, and he didn't miss the trembling in her fingers. She bowed her head slightly under his hands, and said nothing else.

Steeling himself, he began to work. He thought briefly of rmoving his gauntlets, but dismissed it almost immediately. In Tevinter, he had spent hours having to arrange jewelry and baubles for Hadri- no. He wouldn't even think of her name. Not now. This was Hawke, and she was likely more afraid here than he was. Working the silk ties from her hair proved to be more difficult than he had anticipated. It was not merely for vanity, and was actually being used to keep her hair pulled up and away from her face. It didn't help that every time he worked a bead free from her tangles, his finger-guards would catch on the lace. Eventually, it came completely loose, and he slid it from her head, taking a step back. 

"There." 

Hawke looked up at him then, face pink, still sheepish, but smiling. 

"Thank you. I, ah, hadn't realized I still had it on when I left the house."

"It is very beautiful." As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized it was still in his hands. He coughed, trying to hide his own embarrassment, and handed it to her.

She stared at it in his outstretched hand, scratching her head. "Is it..alright..if I leave it here for now? The smithy didn't put pockets on my breastplate."

He nodded in acquiescence, placing it on the table and reached for his sword. He carefully did not look at her, and tried to steady his pounding heart. Her hair had been soft and sweet smelling, some kind of perfume that she hadn't worn before. His hands tingled with the urge, the need, to run through her tresses. He wanted to feel her hair curl around his fingers, press his lips against her head and hold her to him. By the time he gathered his courage and looked back at her, the shyness was gone. Hawke was looking at him in much the same way she had at their first meeting, years ago. It was a serious, calculating expression, tempered by what their friendship had later revealed to him to be her being impressed by him. She tended to be very....simple, in regards to what impressed her. Shiny weapons, giant foes (see: Dragon in the Bone Pit), plain food, and apparently his ability to crush a perons' heart from inside their chest cavity. 

"Where are we going?" He asked, trying to pull his mind to the matter at hand.

"According to Varric, some boys have decided to emulate us and go on their own Deep Roads expedition, with just the three of them."

"Kaffas."

"My thoughts exactly." 

Fenris agreed to help her. He had given his word that she could call on him for aid, and she was one of the few who made his word worth honoring. Through the twists and turns of KIrkwall, he began to wonder about Denarius and his hunters. He hadn't really left the city since before Hawke had left for the Expedition, and wondered how long it would be before they caught up with him, if they were even still looking. If they were, they would be much more skilled than the others. He had faith in Hawke though, and would let himself depend on her if and when the time came.


End file.
